


Dog Days of Summer

by guti



Series: Strange Magic [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dogs, M/M, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie never really believed in magic.  He was a practical man, one who’d witnessed the miraculous time and time again, a man who had seen the impossible come to pass against all odds, but he never really put his faith in anything more complex than the hard work of man and maybe a little luck.  Perhaps that was why his life now seemed like one big cosmic joke, now that he’d been turned into a dog.  Specifically, he’d been turned into a Pomeranian.  Little.  Fluffy.  Terribly high-strung.  For a man who didn’t believe in magic, it was just about too much to handle, finding himself standing on four paws and covered in puffy orange fur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> \- so basically i started writing this in march after [Anemoi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemoi) and i were in washington square park in nyc admiring some dogs. i'm sorry it took so long, sharon! i hope you like it!  
> \- also [pimpam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pimpam/pseuds/pimpam) and i have been spitballing this AU since around october and this is the first official entry in this new AU!  
> \- basic premise: magic is real and some humans are able to master its usage, either through natural talent or through training  
> \- there are also non-humans living on earth who can use magic!  
> \- and there are magical realms beyond earth  
> \- and also this is set in nyc because that's home and it's sort of magical on its own, isn't it??? ;)

Jamie never really believed in magic. He was a practical man, one who’d witnessed the miraculous time and time again, a man who had seen the impossible come to pass against all odds, but he never really put his faith in anything more complex than the hard work of man and maybe a little luck. And what was luck really besides just a coincidence? Sure, he’d grown up listening to fairy tales and other ridiculous stories fed to small children to keep them from getting into too much trouble, or to make them fall asleep, but he was more sensible than that to actually put any stock into that stuff.

Perhaps that was why his life now seemed like one big cosmic joke, now that he’d been turned into a dog. Specifically, he’d been turned into a Pomeranian. Little. Fluffy. Terribly high-strung. For a man who didn’t believe in magic, it was just about too much to handle, finding himself standing on four paws and covered in puffy orange fur. 

He couldn’t figure out how it had happened either. One minute he was at that dinner party Gary asked him to come to, to meet one of his old friends or something, and the next thing he knew it felt like he’d been zapped by an electrical current, and he was now an actual dog. 

It had all started out innocent as can be. He’d gone over to Gary’s with the sole intention of talking his way into his bed for the night, as had become fairly standard over the years. They weren’t a couple, per se, but Gary was the closest thing he’d had to a steady boyfriend in the last half a decade, and he was more or less certain it was mutual. Still, they’d never made it official, and the only time they’d talked about actually maybe being _a thing_ , they’d somehow ended up in a heated argument about football, quickly tabling the conversation for another day, which of course never came. And now, three years on, they still lived in separate flats in separate boroughs and attempted to keep up the facade of not being too invested while being absolutely smitten with each other. Or at least Jamie was. He had a feeling Gary was too, otherwise why would he keep letting him come around his place, fucking him, buying him dinner, and so on. Essentially, they were a long term couple who could never quite acknowledge that after all that time, that was what they were.

Anyway, as it happened, he’d arrived at Gary’s with an overnight bag, intent on getting laid and enjoying the weekend with his favorite Manc and had just let himself in with his key and kicked off his shoes when there came a knock at the door behind him.

“Expecting someone, Gaz?” He called to the kitchen where Gary was getting some cold beers for them.

“No,” he answered, poking his head around the corner to watch as Jamie trudged to the door.

Jamie opened it and found himself face to face with one David Beckham, legendary ex-boyfriend and necromancer extraordinaire. Not that Jamie really even believed that last bit. He distinctly remembered rolling his eyes when Gary’d explained to him that he used to date a wizard, or whatever the hell Becks liked to call himself. A dealer of black magic. A master of the dark arts. A royal cunt who’d fucked over the man Jamie loved, who even cared that it was fifteen years ago now. Jamie simply wasn’t pleased to see the man, even if time had healed the old wounds of the former lovebirds and they were now friends again. As far as Jamie was concerned, David Beckham was nothing but a layabout who contributed nothing to society while playing the charm card every chance he could. It was despicable, and Jamie would do anything he could to make sure Gary never fell under his spell again.

As it was, Becks was standing at the door, grinning like a Cheshire cat, pushing in past Jamie before he could properly slam the door in his smug little face. “Where’s Gaz?”

“He’s busy,” Jamie said sharply.

“I’m right here,” Gary interrupted, breezing over to greet his ex-lover. “We weren’t expecting you, David. What brings you ‘round my way?” 

“The Spanish lads are having a get together and I promised I wouldn’t show up without a date,” Becks said, eyebrows arched, eyes sparkling in the sort of way that Jamie supposed might be mistaken for magical, if magic were a real thing that existed. “You in?”

Jamie felt his cheeks go hot, burning with anger. How _dare_ David Beckham ask out _his_ fella while he’s standing right there?! He was about to fly into a fury, maybe even sock the guy when he felt Gary’s arm curl around his hip.

“Sure we can come. We haven’t got anything planned tonight, have we, Carra?”

Becks raised his eyebrows again, meeting Jamie’s scowl with a playful smirk. “Alright, mates. Get your coats and let’s go. Raúl’s cooking tonight, and believe me, you won’t want to miss it.”

They’d only been in the house for five minutes when everything went to piss. Jamie’d been expecting a raucous house party, knowing the company Becks liked to keep, but they were instead met with a small affair, intimate and close, with only a handful of people in attendance. He’d just grabbed himself a drink and settled onto the couch, letting Gary do the rounds of introductions and re-introductions, waving politely whenever he heard his name, when two of the other men joined him around the coffee table. They were young, one speaking clearly and rapidly, the other with a slow and goofy sort of drawl, and they seemed to be having a heated conversation that Jamie could only half-understand thanks to the language barriers.

“— and you know I don’t believe in any of that stuff anyway,” one was saying as he set his beer bottle down on the table.

The other looked offended, pouting as the words tumbled out of his mouth. “And that is what I am saying, Nando. It is real. I can show you.”

“You don’t have to demonstrate it. Really, I’m good.”

“Yes I do. You won’t believe in magic otherwise.”

Jamie wanted to roll his eyes. Of course Becks would congregate with other crazies who thought they had magical powers. But he kept a straight face and took a swig of his drink and only vaguely eavesdropped on their conversation. Mostly he was wondering where Gary’d run off to and feeling slightly jealous that he’d rather chat with Becks than see how Jamie was doing.

It wasn’t until he felt a warm, electric sensation come over him that he snapped back to reality. Everything felt hot, staticky, and a little painful, and his eyes flickered shut, the last image blazed into his mind was that of the two Spaniards looming over him with terrified looks in their eyes.

—

When he came to, he knew instantly that something was wrong. His first indication was the proportions of everything was off. He was very low to the ground, and everyone around him seemed unreasonably large. Then there was the fact that he was standing on all fours. When he looked to his hands, he could see quite clearly that they were no longer attached to him, but were instead replaced by fuzzy orange paws.

If he’d had it in him to scream then, he would have. Instead his eyes went large and he let out a pathetic little whimper of a noise as he collapsed to the floor.

The guests had gathered around to stare at him, each of their faces held in identical expressions of wide-eyed horror. Gary perhaps looked the most comical of all, sinking to his knees to gather the stunned Jamie up into his arms, to clutch him close to his chest, sputtering as he turned back to face the other men.

“What’ve you done to him?!” Gary demanded as a terrified Jamie instinctively and against his best efforts pressed his wet puppy nose and little pink tongue against his cheek. “What’ve you done to Carra?!”

“He’s been turned into a dog,” one of the men said flatly. Jamie couldn’t quite remember his name. Spanish. Blonde. Temperamental as all get out and now hovering protectively over the shoulder of the younger, dumber Spaniard who’d been the one responsible for this whole mess. Guti? Was that it? Jamie wasn’t sure, they’d only met one other time before, back at some other party at Becks’s house. He’d been too drunk to pay much attention at the time.

“Yes, I can see that!” Gary cried out. “Now turn him back!”

“I don’t know how!” The younger man, Sergio, said, seemingly very apologetic as he balled his hands into anxious little fists. 

“What do you mean?” Gary asked, eyes the size of dinner plates. “Turn him back!”

“I can’t!” Sergio wailed.

“He can’t,” Guti said, more calmly. Beside him, Becks began to snicker. Jamie could feel a growl building up in his little chest and he didn’t hesitate to snarl at them, enraged that they should laugh at his misfortune. Thankfully, the others in attendance seemed a bit more sympathetic to Jamie’s plight, but unlike Gary and Jamie, they were used to this sort of thing. 

“What do you mean you can’t turn him back?” Any hint of amusement in Gary’s eyes had vanished long ago, leaving his expression stony and cold as he stared the three of them down, Jamie safe in his arms still.

“The spell I used can’t be reversed,” Sergio said, staring down at his feet like a scolded schoolboy.

“Well, can’t you just cast another spell and undo it?” Gary cried.

Guti clicked his tongue softly and shook his head, as if to say _silly human_. “That isn’t how magic works. You can’t just layer spells on top of each other, otherwise it will get all muddled and something will go wrong.”

“Then how can you change him back?” Gary looked down at Jamie, whose eyes were black and bright and full of fear.

“You’ll just have to wait for the spell to wear off, I suppose.”

“Wait for it to wear off?!” Jamie barked, and all the others turned to look at him, shocked expressions on their faces. He too was surprised at hearing his own voice, having expected to hear the sound of barking instead.

“You can talk?!” Gary stammered, squinting at him.

“I guess I can, yeah,” Jamie said, testing his voice out.

“It shouldn’t take more than a month,” Guti said, carrying on the conversation without missing a beat. “That’s about par for the course with little spells like these. I’m sure it won’t be so bad. There are worse things to be turned into, trust me. Now come on, dinner’s getting cold, and I want to tell all of you about the time David here used a spell to turn Raúl’s grandmother’s dead dog into a zombie.”

—

The rest of the dinner guests seemed to treat the situation very nonchalantly, carrying on as if this _wasn’t_ the most horribly traumatic thing that had ever happened in the history of ever. Jamie found he didn’t have any appetite, instead staring forlornly at Gary, pleading with his eyes for them to leave. Eventually they did, taking a cab home despite Becks’s offers to give them a lift. When they finally arrived back at Gary’s place, Jamie took that as a prime opportunity to fully break down and lament his life up to that point.

“… and I could be stuck like this forever! Forever, Gaz!”

He burrowed his nose into Gary’s elbow, sobbing as softly as a Pomeranian could. Gary sat there on the sofa, holding him, gently stroking his little triangular ears. “It won’t be forever.”

“It might be!” He sounded more shrill as a dog than he ever had as a man, and had the situation been any different, Gary might’ve commented on it. Instead he just continued to pet him. “A month is almost forever! What am I gonna do?”

“You’ll stay here with me,” Gary said. “You’ll stay here until this is over.”

“But what about my flat? Who’ll pay the rent on it?” Jamie sniffled, unburying his nose.

“I’ll figure it out. You just relax and we’ll deal with it as it comes.”

Jamie wasn’t certain he could last a full month as a dog, but what choice did he really have in the matter? He was stuck, worse than stuck, really. So he let out a sad little sigh and snuggled up to Gary’s chest, and eventually he calmed down enough to fall asleep.

—

Any hope that it had all been a terrible lucid nightmare faded as soon as Jamie opened his eyes and took in the odd proportions of the bedroom and the man sleeping soundly beside him. He was still, in fact, a dog. Still small. Still furry. Still pissed off. And on top of that, he had the sudden and overwhelming urge to _chew_ on something. 

Hopping to his feet in frustration, he paced around the foot of the bed in a huff before gracelessly bouncing to the floor, nose twitching from all the strange and enticing new smells he was encountering in Gary’s bedroom. Drooling slightly, he followed his nose directly toward something which he was sure might cure his need to chew: Gary’s slippers. 

They smelled terrible, if he was being honest, but they also had a sort of tantalizing aroma to them which drew him in like nothing else. Unable to resist the pull, he let out a mighty growl and got right down to business, gnawing greedily on the worn leather soles.

He didn’t let up for a good fifteen minutes, ripping at the slippers with an obsessive fury he couldn’t hope to control. It was shameful, utterly embarrassing, but he simply couldn’t help it. He had to chew. And he had to chew Gary’s shoes. Because Gary’s shoes were his. Because Gary was his. And because what was Gary thinking, leaving his slippers out with an untrained Pomeranian around?

It wasn’t until he heard the sharp intake of breath from the bed that he let up, dropping the slipper from his mouth as he turned to look at Gary, staring at him in complete horror.

“What in the hell are you doing?” He gasped, casting off his blanket and stumbling from the bed. “Did you just eat my slippers?”

Jamie could only look up at him with the largest, saddest expression imaginable. “I… I…”

“You ate my bloody slippers! You actually ate them!”

“I didn’t eat them!” Jamie protested weakly, a high pitched little whine coming out, though he didn’t mean for it to.

“You ate them!” Gary stammered as he sank to his knees, picking up one of the mangled shoes. “Jesus Christ, Carra!”

“I…” He trailed off, looking down at the other slipper, it’s sole totally ripped away from the rest of it, little holes chewed throughout. “I couldn’t help it. I just had to chew them up.”

“I know you _look_ like a dog, Carra, but you’re not a dog. You’re still a man.” Gary snatched the other slipper away from him in disgust and stormed out of the bedroom, leaving the poor little puppy to reflect on what he’d done.

Part of him wanted to chase after Gary, bark some sense into him, remind him of the terrible predicament he was in, explain that he had these strange instinctive things that just seemed to be taking over, whether he wanted them to or not. But Gary seemed so disappointed in him, and for some reason it shook Jamie right to the core. So instead of chasing him down, he began to whimper sadly and went to hide in Gary’s dirty laundry hamper.

—

After breakfast (a few pieces of sausage set down on the floor in a little dish) Gary decided it would be best if he went out to the store to purchase some supplies. If Jamie was going to be stuck as a dog for awhile, it would be a good idea to have some proper care items for him. A collar. A leash. Some actual dog food.

“Can’t I go with you?” Jamie asked, scrambling toward the door after him.

“You’ll be much safer here,” Gary said. And before Jamie could so much as bark at him, he was gone and the door was locked behind him.

“Gary!” Jamie whined, scratching at the door. “Gary! Wait! Stop! Let me come with you! Hey!”

There was no response. Huffing, he made a mental note to get back at him somehow. Maybe once he was turned back into a human he’d punch him or something. Or demand an apology blowjob. He certainly deserved one after all this bullshit he’d put up with already.

With a soft, dejected little howl, Jamie hopped up onto the sofa to wait for Gary to come back. It was then that he noticed something out the window in one of the trees. Something small. Something brown. Something fuzzy.

His ears pricked up and he leapt up onto the back of the couch to get a better look. The small brown fuzzy thing moved again, its bushy tail twitching as it nibbled on some sort of berry.

“Hey!” He yelled at it, growling, teeth bared. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing, mate?! Who said you could be in that tree? Hey!”

The squirrel was oblivious.

“That’s my tree, you little furry bastard! I’m gonna get you!” Jamie bounced as he barked, getting louder with each passing second. “I’m gonna catch you and kill you and give you to Gary!”

The squirrel paused and then looked over at him.

Jamie began to howl. 

“Ey, fucker! Just wait until he lets me outside! I’ll catch you and grab you and Gary will be so happy I protected the garden and—” He stopped abruptly, realizing what he was saying. He was plotting to attack and kill a squirrel as a present to Gary. What kind of a sick weirdo—

The squirrel made a chattering sound, muffled through the glass, and Jamie went absolutely ballistic, unable to stop himself, unable to curb the desire to defend his (Gary’s) garden. He barked and he barked and he barked, and he didn’t stop barking until he heard footsteps and the keys jangling in the lock at the front door. At that point he ran to the front door and started barking some more.

“Carra!” Gary gasped, arms fully laden with shopping bags. He looked worried and exhausted. “What’s the matter with you? I could hear you barking all the way down the road.”

“You’ve got to let me out!” Jamie insisted, making for the door, which Gary had already kicked shut behind him, preventing his escape. “Let me out there!”

“Why? Have you got to piss?” Gary asked, a bit sarcastic as he set the bags down on the floor beside Jamie.

Jamie snarled at him. “No, fuck. There’s a… a thing, that I have to do outside.”

Gary’s eyes went a little wide with horror, like he was imagining that he’d have to follow after Jamie with a plastic baggie.

“There’s a squirrel out there,” Jamie said, pawing at the door. “And it keeps mocking me.”

“A squirrel?” Gary was still wide-eyed. Then he burst out laughing.

Jamie pouted as best he could with his little puppy face. “It isn’t funny. Don’t laugh at me.” 

Gary couldn’t help it. He sank back against the wall, shoulders shaking, hand over his mouth, looking up at the ceiling as if he were looking to heaven to please intervene and solve this great mess at that very moment. “A squirrel,” he repeated, looking back to Jamie then.

“Don’t laugh at me, Gaz,” Jamie said, quieter this time, staring back at him sadly.

Gary could take a hint. His own expression fell, and he crouched down, reaching a hand out to him. Jamie went to him immediately, without thinking, and Gary pet his ears. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you, Jamie. It’s hard on me, too.”

Jamie sat down and let himself be petted, let himself be calmed by the steadiness of Gary’s touch. He wasn’t quivering quite so much anymore, and he slowly rolled onto his side, silently encouraging Gary to rub his tummy.

“I know you’re angry,” Gary continued, shifting so that he was sitting on the floor, legs out in front of him, Jamie’s head resting right at his thigh. “I’m mad at them for doing this to you. They had no right to do it. No right at all, especially when they couldn’t just change you back.”

“Have I ever told you I don’t believe in magic?” Jamie asked.

Gary chuckled. “A time or two. That was part of your initial appeal, if I’m being honest with you. After David, I never wanted to hear the words ‘magic’ or ‘hexes’ or ‘abracadabra’ ever again.”

Jamie tried to roll his eyes. He looked more precious than anything else. Gary couldn’t fight his grin.

“I never wanted to be part of that world. And I never really was. David told me once that it’s foolish to try and drag people like us into all that. Magic draws people in. It chooses who it wants. You can’t just surround yourself with it and become a part of it. It seeks out receptive souls, and everyone else is just… cast aside. Forgotten. No matter how hard you try, you can’t be part of that world if it’s not meant to be?”

“So why’s he keep coming ‘round then?” Jamie tried his best not to sound too petty. He wasn’t jealous of Beckham. Not much, anyway. “You two’ve been done for how many years, and he _still_ comes ‘round here, chasing after you like he’s gonna enchant you and win you back. How many times can a guy cast a love spell that doesn’t take before he gives up the ghost?” 

Gary flinched a little, eyebrows furrowing in the way they always did when he was trying to be serious or when he wanted to keep himself in check. They also tended to do that whenever he talked frankly about David Beckham, Jamie’d noticed. He’d noticed that a long time ago, but he’d never mentioned it. It wasn’t really his business, he knew as much, but it was awfully hard to compete with a guy who could literally use magic and voodoo and whatever else, especially when he came around with that sly little smirk of his, the one that made Gary all doe-eyed and soft. Gary could talk a good talk when it was just him and Jamie. He could lay out a very good case as to why he and Becks had broken up, explain why they’d never get back together. 

“You’ll have to ask him that sometime.”

“I don’t ever want to see that twat again,” Jamie muttered through gritted teeth. Gary patted his belly in response. “He got me into this mess. And he and his gang of sideshow idiots can’t even undo what they done to me. And now I’m stuck like this.”

“It’s temporary,” Gary said firmly, hoisting himself up off the floor. “Now come on. I’ve got you a some things to make the next few weeks a little more bearable.”

—

An hour or so later, Gary took Jamie out for a walk. They’d practiced with the lead in the living room for a little bit, letting Jamie get accustomed to the harness and collar before venturing out into the world.

Everything looked so big from his new vantage point. Trees which had been moderately impressive now towered over him. Stop signs seemed to be thirty feet high. The cars that drove past all seemed to be the size of freight trains. He put on a brave face though, refusing to be intimidated by his lack of stature. He might look like a little Pomeranian, but he was a grown man, dammit, and he wasn’t going to let everyday sights and sounds scare him.

“There’s a dog park a few blocks from here,” Gary said as they paused at a crosswalk. “Would you care to check it out?”

Jamie’s eyes lit up and he heard himself barking at the prospect. A dog park. A place where he could run and jump and expend some of the pent up frustration and energy he’d had stored up all day. Maybe there would be toys, or something to chew. Something he could destroy while pretending it was David Beckham’s jugular.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Gary snorted, and with that they were on their way.

The dog park was quite full. It was the mid-evening, so it made sense. All the working people off and taking their apartment dogs out for a stroll or a romp with the other pups. The park itself was quite lovely, a fenced in area with benches for the owners to sit and chat while the dogs ran amok, jumping and chasing each other and squabbling over balls and other little toys. Most of the dogs were small, like Jamie, the sort of dogs who did well in little flats and could be left for hours on end with no supervision while their owners were busy in their offices. There were a few bigger dogs too, but those were the outliers it seemed, standing watch over the littler ones, wrestling the toys away whenever they got the urge, trotting about as if they owned the place.

Jamie didn’t pay them much mind, he was too excited at the prospect of playing. They approached the gate and Gary let him off the lead to go and socialize with the other dogs.

“I’ll be on the bench,” Gary said. 

Jamie gave a vague nod and bounded off for the nearest available toy. It was a knotted rope, small enough that he could hold it in his mouth. He picked it up and gave it a shake, satisfied with the feeling of power he felt over it. Ah yes, it felt nice to shake that rope and show it who was boss, especially after that chaotic encounter with the squirrel. He growled happily to himself and shook it again and again and again, until out of nowhere he was suddenly toppled onto his back on the ground.

“Hey!” He cried, looking up to see a large mastiff looming over him, _his_ rope in its massive wet mouth. “That’s mine!”

The mastiff stared at him and began to shake the rope himself, much more violently than Jamie could’ve managed. He had to admit, it was a little intimidating to be nose to nose with something so much larger than him, and with such large and pointy teeth. Still, he was who he was, and he wasn’t about to back down! Jamie growled again, and without a second thought he leapt up at the mastiff and attempted to wrestle the rope from its mouth.

The larger dog seemed at first surprised by his power grab, standing there stunned as Jamie dug his teeth into the strand of rope. But that last just a few seconds before the mastiff began a low, terrible growl and started shaking his head, trying to rid himself from the tiny, poofy pest.

Jamie bounced back onto the ground almost immediately. “Give it here, you! That’s my rope!”

The mastiff glared at him, narrowing it’s large glassy eyes. And then… it charged. 

Jamie let out a shrill yap as it knocked him backwards, exposing his soft, unprotected tummy. Its monstrous white teeth glistened, drool coating him as he shrieked and whined. “Gary!” He screamed, forgetting that he was a dog and not a person. “Gary! Save me!”

He closed his eyes and said a prayer that his death would be swift, only to be scooped up and carted away, safe and snug in Gary’s arms. Whimpering still, he buried his face in the crook of Gary’s elbow, utterly ashamed, refusing to show his face until they were several blocks away and far removed from that awful, vicious animal. 

“It nearly killed me,” he sobbed, shivering and shuddering against him. “It nearly ate me alive.”

“You’re fine, Carra,” Gary said, somehow both soothing and a little fed up. They were just at his doorstep and he had to dig for his keys without dropping him. “It wasn’t going to eat you.”

“It might’ve,” Jamie sniffed. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Gary insisted. “Besides, don’t try and tell me you couldn’t take on a big dumb dog like that. You’re smarter than he is, remember.”

“I might be,” Jamie said as Gary opened the door and set him on the floor. “But size does count for something, you know.”

Gary snickered and left his coat at the door. Jamie pouted and flopped sadly on the rug. He fell asleep that night cuddled up to Gary, quivering still, realizing that being a dog certainly wasn’t all it was cut out to be. His first full day had been a total nightmare, how in the world was he going to survive like this for a month?

—

He woke when Gary did and followed him into the kitchen, waiting patiently for Gary to put out his food, which he devoured greedily as Gary sipped his tea. It would be another big, eventful day, no doubt, trapped in the body of a pooch, stuck indoors while Gary went about his daily routine. Jamie was absolutely dreading it. He hated the thought of being left all alone again. It was bad enough when he was himself, bored out of his mind in Gary’s flat, watching daytime television or stuck reading the boring books Gary left lying around. Doing so as a dog would be even more mind numbing. And probably more frightening, if he were being honest.

“But couldn’t you work from home?” Jamie asked, scrambling up on his hind legs, pawing at Gary’s knees. “I know it’s short notice, but surely—”

“I don’t have that much sick time saved up,” Gary said as he rinsed his cup in the sink. “And they’ll ask me to bring a doctor’s note.”

“Gary, please.”

Gary looked down at him then, his little nose twitching, face drawn into an expression that was truly pathetic. Gary sighed and knelt to scoop him up, Jamie’s tail wagging excitedly as he carried him to the living room and made the call.

But it wasn't going to be a day of fun and romping. Oh, no. Gary had actual work he had to do, and so he spent most of the morning at his computer, paying Jamie no mind at all while Jamie sat on the sofa, staring at a morning chat show with dead, empty eyes.

“I’m bored, Gary. This is boring. Can’t we go for a walk?”

Gary didn't look up from the monitor. “I have to get this done by noon.”

“Then can we go for a walk?”

“Later.”

“Promise, Gaz?”

“Shush.”

Jamie huffed at looked back at the screen, sighing again as a fight over a child’s paternity broke out. It was going to be a long morning.

Eventually he got so bored he hopped down from the couch and started wandering around the apartment. It was the same as it ever was, same as it had been for all the years he’d been seeing Gary. He liked Gary’s place, he’d always felt pretty much at home there. It was small, but uncluttered, with enough coordination to the decor that it looked like an actual home instead of a glorified dormitory. He liked that about Gary’s place. It was lived in. Not that his own place wasn’t or anything. There was just something to be said about having a nice home away from home to crash in.

He wandered down the narrow little hall, nose to the floor as he took in all the strange new scents, sniffing his way along until he found that he was in the bathroom. He paused, blinking, nose twitching as his gaze settled on the toilet, and he was suddenly overcome with the desire to examine it closer. The internal struggle was real. If he were himself, his actual self, there'd be no way in hell he’d want to snoot around the toilet, and yet, there he was, pawing at the porcelain, unable to fight the strong desire to splash at the water inside.

He flailed and kicked, and it took some effort, but he managed to leverage himself up enough to peek into the bowl. And then, against his own better judgement, he leaned forward in an attempt to drink. Shoulders hunching, he lowered his snout to the water, lower, lower, lower, until—

“Fuck!” His cry was enveloped, swallowed up by the sound of him splashing face first into the toilet bowl. Carra yelped and floundered helplessly, water splattering every which way as he tried to scramble out. But before he could, he heard Gary’s footsteps from down the hall.

“What’ve you gotten into—” Gary stood in the doorway, stunned. “Oh my god, Jamie!”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Jamie whined, crawling out of the water, flopping sadly to the floor.

“You were in the toilet!”

“I was thirsty!”

“There’s water in your dish! What the hell!”

“I didn’t want that water!”

Gary shook his head, clearly horrified as he slowly reached for a bath towel. “This is absolutely insane.”

“I know,” Jamie shivered, then suddenly shook, water from his fur spraying everywhere. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

Gary just watched him for a moment then knelt to him to scoop him up. “Alright, that’s it. I’m giving you a bath.”

Jamie’s eyes went wide. “A bath? No! I don’t want one!”

But it was too late. Gary already had him tucked under an arm and before Jamie could wriggle free he’d been plopped into the running bathtub to have his coat shampooed. He sat there as patiently as he could, drenched and miserable, watching Gary with the widest, saddest puppy eyes, whimpering softly as Gary massaged the soap into his back, carefully scrubbing behind his ears, rinsing him gently. Jamie had to admit though, Gary was nothing if not excessively patient.

Afterward, he was bundled up into a nice, clean towel, just like a little baby, and set back onto the sofa while Gary finished his project. It was boring sure, but he wasn't sure he’d ever felt more protected in his whole life. Who else in their right mind would put up with this bullshit besides Gary? Jamie felt a little lightheaded just thinking about it. There was no one else in the world who’d tolerate his behavior except Gary, no one else who’d drop everything to look after him in this state, or forgive him for chewing on slippers or splashing in the commode. He was a lucky bastard to have a boyfriend like Gary Neville, and it took being turned into a dog to recognize that.

Gary closed his computer finally and looked over at Jamie, who perked up immediately. He wiggled out of his towel and waddled over to him, fur damp still from his bath, little tail wagging. Gary watched him a moment then laughed, arms open as Jamie sprinted at him, wet doggy nose pressing to Gary’s neck.

—

“You know, I sort of like you this way,” Gary teased him later. It was after lunch, they were settled back on the sofa, relaxing. Jamie was still a little miffed at his bath, and even more miffed at having to be brushed out. But he was comfy now, curled up in a ball beside Gary, his chin resting on Gary’s ribs. “You’re easier to get on with as a dog.”

Jamie stared at him, eyes narrowing. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

Gary laughed and wrapped his arms around Jamie, pulling him in closer. “Oh, Carra.”

“Hm?”

“What am I gonna do with you?”

“You could take me on another walk. We could go back to the park.”

Gary shook his head. “I meant…never mind.”

Jamie sat up, head tilting as he stared at Gary. He wanted to ask, wanted to press him about it, wondered if this was some existential type moment in their relationship. Was Gary planting the seeds of a _serious conversation_ , or was this just another comfortable, yet fleeting moment between them. Sometimes, Jamie wondered why they didn’t just give up the ghost and say they were in love. _He_ was in love, he’d have to be to have put up with years of on-again-off-again bullshit punctuated by magical ex-boyfriend related shenanigans. So why didn’t he ever say so and tell Gary it was time they stopped trying to fool themselves and the world and just admit they were too far gone? Why did it always feel like if he did that, it’d be like surrendering something?

There wasn't much to surrender, if he was being honest. He was just an average person, an average man with an average job and an average flat in an average neighborhood. He didn’t have anything special to offer. He wasn’t especially clever or articulate. He wasn’t artistically inclined or gifted with any other talents. Moreover, he didn't have any magical powers. He didn’t even really believe in all of that rubbish, not until he’d met Gary. And he didn't even mean all that metaphysical mumbo-jumbo. He meant sparks-flying, heart-racing, eyes meeting across a crowded room, lightning zaps you and you’re doomed, that sort of affair. 

He remembered it all so clearly. He’d been drinking alone that night, in a bar he’d been to before, though he wasn't really a regular. He’d just ordered his usual when the bartender leaned across to him and said to him, “Hey, you’re from England, right? Those guys over there are from England too. You should say hi to them.”

He looked to where the man was pointing across the bar and that’s when he saw Gary for the first time, surrounded by his mates, laughing obnoxiously over something or other. Jamie’d nearly turned away except Gary happened to turn his head and their eyes met, and somehow, against all odds, they’d gone back to Jamie’s that night. The sex had been pretty incredible, good enough that he’d made Gary breakfast the next morning, and a couple days later he’d swallowed his pride and called him up. And now, here he was, perched in Gary’s arms, on Gary’s sofa, in the body of a small fluffy dog, caught up in a bigger scheme than he’d ever imagined possible.

He hadn't believed in any of it at first. It was all too farfetched that no sensible person would think any of it held any water. After all, didn't everyone have some crazy ex who went off the deep end and got too invested in tarot cards and reading about the occult? Jamie did, back home. In fact, he had a few friends and former lovers who’d gotten themselves deeply invested in reading books on ESP and shit like that back at uni, but he chalked it all up to their being bored and searching for meaning in an otherwise meaningless world. When Gary’d told him flat out that his ex-boyfriend was some sort of purveyor of the mystical arts, Jamie’d laughed and made a joke about staying on David’s good side in case he would try out some voodoo spells on him. He remembered Gary forcing a smile, like he wanted to take it as a joke. Looking back now, none of it seemed especially funny.

“Oh, Jamie,” Gary said again, squishing his ears together, sighing. Jamie smiled as best he could, but it just looked goofy, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Gary laughed, sitting up, dog in arms. “Come on, I’ve got a present for you.”

Jamie barked, wiggling excitedly. “What is it? Is it a way to change me back?”

Gary set him on the floor and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with the bag from the pet shop from the day before. “I’ll show you in a moment. Just sit still, will you?”

He sat obediently, front paws kicking a little as he intently observed Gary remove a little red sweater from the bag. “What’s that?”

“Sit still,” Gary repeated firmly, and before Jamie could sort out exactly what was happening, the sweater was on over his head and fully on. Gary sat back, unable to hold in his cackling any longer as Jamie squirmed, trying to get a good look at himself. “Oh my god. Unbelievable.”

“What is this?” Jamie yelped, trying to look over his shoulder to observe the design on the back, heart pounding in his tiny chest. “What is this thing?!”

“Wait here, I’ve got to take a picture.” 

“Gary! What’ve you put on me?”

He could only hear Gary’s annoying laughter as he went for his phone. Suddenly feeling quite alarmed, he decided he needed to find a mirror and get a decent look at the pattern on his back. He was just trotting down the hall when there came a sharp knock at the door, and all reason went out the window entirely. Before he could stop himself, Jamie raced to the front door, yapping loudly to alert Gary of the intruder.

“Calm down,” Gary said, reappearing behind him, shooing him away with his foot. “It’s alright, it’s okay. Relax.”

Jamie growled under his breath at the indignity of it all but obeyed, standing post behind Gary as the door swung open. 

And that’s when he found himself face to feet with his best mate in the whole entire world. Jamie yelped in surprise.

“Steven,” Gary said, voice hitching. “This is unexpected.”

“Yeah, well,” Stevie said, a bit awkwardly, hands shoved into his pockets. Jamie sat right up, prancing over toward him excitedly. “I’m looking for Carra. Has he been around?”

“Eh…” Gary leaned against the open door, clearly a little nervous. 

“He was supposed to meet me for dinner last night and he never showed. Won’t pick up when I ring him, nothing, not a word. And his landlady said she hadn’t seen him in a few days, so I figured…”

“He came over the other night,” Gary offered, like he was debating whether confessing the truth would be worth it or not. Either Stevie would believe him and need to be filled in on the whole thing, or Stevie’d call a local psychiatric ward and maybe have Gary committed. 

Jamie barked and scrambled toward Stevie, standing upright on his hind legs, just begging for attention. Gary slowly turned to look down at him. Stevie did too, amusement clear on his face as he was overcome by the adorable temptation that was a small, fuzzy dog. He knelt down to scratch Jamie’s ears. “Didn’t know you had a dog.”

“I… yes. I got him recently.”

Stevie nodded. Jamie cooed, and licked at Stevie’s palm, and was about to open his mouth to explain the whole situation when Stevie continued. “Cute. And you got him a little United shirt. That’s… typical.”

Imaginary _Kill Bill_ sirens went off in Jamie’s head as he jerked away from Steven, frantically trying to get a good look at the pattern on his back. Then, out of the corner of his eye he spotted it: the tell-tale outline of a little pitchfork. Jamie screeched in horror and bolted down the hall. No way would he admit to his best mate, a Scouser through and through, that while he’d been turned into a dainty little toy dog, he’d let his Manc boyfriend dress him up in a Manchester United sweater. There were just some things a man could never fess up to. He sprinted into Gary’s bedroom and bit at the sweater, unraveling it with his teeth until it was nothing but a mess of yarn on the floor, destroyed, as it properly should have been before it was ever even woven.

“Are you done?” Gary asked a few minutes later, looming in the doorway.

“You’re a dick, Gary Neville.”

Gary snorted at him, crossing over to flop onto the bed. “I didn’t even get a proper photo of you in it.”

“I honestly hate you.”

“You looked darling.”

“You’ve betrayed me.”

“Betrayed you? Oh, please. You’ll get over it, and besides, it was on sale.”

“I hope they paid you to take it, bastard. Shite team. Can’t believe you put it on me.”

Gary laughed and patted the blanket. Without thinking, Jamie leapt up to join him.

“Stevie wants you to call him when you can.” Gary reached out to him. “I said I’d pass the message along when I saw you.”

Jamie sat a respectable distance away from him, eyes narrowed still. He really did feel betrayed, on a level. You could take the boy out of Liverpool, but like hell could you put him in a United sweater and think you could get away with it. He was who he was, even if he’d been gone awhile. Still, he had to admit, if the tables had been turned, he probably wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of putting Gary in a little Liverpool shirt either.

“Are you actually mad at me?” Gary asked after a minute, his voice so honest it was almost startling.

Jamie shook his and settled down beside him, shivering a little as Gary enveloped him in his arms. “It ain’t you, Gaz. It’s everything else but you.”

And it was everything else. Everything else in the world was unpredictable and frightening. There were forces beyond human imagination and far beyond human control, all working in their own ways, conspiring against logic and reason to create a more chaotic and imperfect world. The same forces that made spells and voodoo and astrology real were the ones that had turned him into a Pomeranian. But then, he figured, perhaps those were the same forces that had struck him down the minute he met Gary, made him weak, made him absolutely miserably in love with him. He liked that part of magic, generally speaking, so maybe it was all a trade off. One stroke of love meant a bad turn later on. A lifetime of love for a month as a dog. It was a fair trade. Sort of. He could deal with it. Mostly.

Jamie closed his eyes and furiously nuzzled Gary’s neck.

“If you bite me, I swear I’ll throw you out the window.”

“I won’t bite you,” Jamie mumbled. “I’d never bite you. I love you too much.”

Gary almost choked, he seemed so surprised, though he tightened his embrace of the dog. “You have the worst way of showing it, you know that.”

“Are you really so pressed about that damned sweater?”

“No,” Gary sighed. He went quiet, quiet enough that Jamie wiggled back so he could see Gary’s face. He sighed again. “I wanted you to move in with me before.”

Jamie could only blink.

“I wanted us to be real.”

“Aren’t we real?” Jamie asked.

“I dunno, Jamie? Are we?”

“I tell people you’re my boyfriend. That’s real, isn’t it?”

“I tell people you’re my boyfriend too.”

Jamie exhaled through his nose, sneezing quietly. “I don't see the problem then.”

“Last time I asked you if you were my boyfriend, we got into a row. Don’t you remember?”  
Jamie remembered. He couldn’t forget it. One minute they’d been enjoying post-sex bliss, lying with his chin pressed to Gary’s sternum, gazing up at him so intently, like he never wanted to look at anyone else like that again. He still felt that way, like no one else in the world could ever look at him that way, and he’d been fine, so long as Gary still did. Gary’d asked him if they’d be exclusive. Jamie’d agreed. They’d laughed and smiled and made out for a bit, and then one of them made a joke about football and it suddenly snowballed, and Jamie remembered he’d said something actually cruel. Not banter, not a joke, something nasty that he’d regretted immediately. 

But the damage was done, and neither of them ever talked like that again, besides heat of the moment shit. After all, everyone knows that saying ‘I love you’ doesn’t count if you’re in the middle of fucking. No one can help the crap that come out of their mouths when they’re about to come. Except Jamie did mean it, and Gary did too, and they both knew it. They were just too stubborn or stupid or foolish to get over it and say it again.

“Right, so we had a row,” Jamie said, looking down at his paws. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still my boyfriend, Gary. You’ve been my boyfriend the last three years. At least, on my end you have.”

Gary looked at him, like he was trying to keep a serious face. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with a dog.”

“I’m not a dog,” Jamie said emphatically, ego bruised.

“I know,” Gary said, extending his hand to him. Jamie licked at his fingers. “You’re my boyfriend. My boyfriend of three years. In the body of a dog.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, then rolled onto his side. What more could be said? It was the truth, wasn’t it?

—

“Three years dating is a long time,” Gary said later, after brushing his teeth. Jamie looked up at him, the Mighty Red chew toy Gary had surprised him with still clenched in his jaws. “You reckon maybe it’s time we move in together?”

The chew toy fell unceremoniously to the floor.

Gary only laughed, then shut off the light.

—

He was actually sort of getting used to things after a few more days. He and Gary had their routine all sorted out, with Gary letting him out to piss before work then leaving him in the apartment with the TV on until he got back from work at just past six. Then they’d go for a walk and Gary would make dinner and they’d sit together on the sofa and watch ESPN FC, which was what passed for quality footballing commentary in the States. It was all awfully domestic, and sickening as it was, Jamie found he didn't entirely hate everything about his life as a dog. He liked to bark at the squirrels in the yard still, and he still struggled with the desire to chew on Gary’s shoes and furnishings, but it wasn’t so bad. If anything, he and Gaz had made more progress on sorting their relationship out while he was a dog than they had in years. And that felt good. It felt really good.

So it felt a bit bad when Beckham reappeared at the front door on Friday night, smug as he ever was, with a promise to set everything right again, if only they’d come out with him.

Carra’s little lips curled, little white teeth bared. Gary gave him a little squeeze, holding him securely in his lap. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough for me, Beckham? Look at me. Look what happened last time.”

“Last time we were surrounded by apprentice morons,” Becks said coolly, seated beside Gary on the sofa. “This time we’ll be in the company of the most powerful magic-wielder on this entire plane of reality. There’s a big difference, you understand.”

Jamie snarled. Gary put his hand over Jamie’s mouth. “It sounds a bit risky, Becks. Can’t you understand Jamie’s trepidation?”

“Of course I can. But what I’m saying is, if anyone can help, it’s Kaká.”

That was hardly a name to impress Carra, but Gary seemed to understand the significance, and so after a bit of prodding, the trio made their way across the city, by subway, to the apartment of one Kaká. Jamie spent most of the entire trip tucked under Gary’s arm, jaw clenched as Beckham chattered on and on about how brilliant Kaká was, how there was no one quite like him on Earth, or beyond. It sounded like a load of bullshit to Jamie, but he kept his mouth shut. Mostly.

Jamie’s never been to Kaká’s place before. He didn’t even really like hanging out in the West Village much at all. It was too trendy for his tastes, it had a sort of glossed over feel to it that seemed almost artificial at times, like the history and depth of the city had been forgotten in favor of the pleasant exterior of cupcake shops and organic coffeehouses. Of course, there were some attractive night spots in the area, but he was too old for that nonsense, and besides, he wasn’t actively seeking out hook-ups anymore, being officially/unofficially attached and all. The whole idea of popping by an immaculately decorated townhouse to eat ceviche with some South American voodoo practitioner (or whatever he was) didn’t seem like a night well spent to him, especially considering his experiences with letting magical folk run amok, but somehow and for whatever reason, all of his hesitation swept away the moment Kaká opened the door.

“David,” he said, tilting his head to the side, blinking slowly. “You’ve brought a friend with you.”

“Yeah,” Becks grinned. “You remember Gary.”

Gary nodded hello. 

Kaká stood still in the doorway, staring straight at Jamie. “And your other friend? What do you call him?”

Jamie’s ears perked up. “Jamie,” he said, woofing softly. He was staring back at Kaká, momentarily transfixed by his dark eyes and almost otherworldly demeanor. He was unlike anyone Jamie had ever met in his life.

Kaká smiled. “And how long have you been stuck like this, Jamie?”

If Jamie could’ve fully smiled back, he would have. Immediately, he understood he was in competent hands.

—

They sat in Kaká’s living room, which was nowhere near as posh as Jamie had imagined, Gary politely sipping from the galão Kaká had presented him, Beckham with a flask of something or other produced from god only knew where, watching intently as Kaká held Jamie up, examining him closely.

“You’re very soft,” he said, smoothing Jamie’s coat, then roughing it up again with the next stroke. He seemed utterly fascinated by the little dog in his arms, scrutinizing him as if he’d never seen such a creature in his life. “But this form simply does not suit you. We’ll have to put you back.”

“Yes, exactly, Kaká,” Beckham said, nodding. “That’s why we’ve come all the way down, to see if you can’t put the poor fella back to normal.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“It shouldn’t?” Jamie asked, finding his voice again.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to layer spells on top of each other.” Gary frowned, turning to Beckham. “Isn’t that what the Guti fellow said? It’d muddle everything, make the whole situation worse?”

Kaká wrinkled his nose at that. Jamie couldn’t tell if the expression was one of surprise or amusement. “Guti did this to you?”

“No,” Becks scoffed. “It was Sergio.”

Kaká actually laughed then. “That is more logical. Sergio can be very stupid when it comes to using his magic.”

Jamie wasn’t laughing though. His little heart was racing, he was afraid. As serene and soothing as Kaká was, the fear that they might make everything worse still loomed high over them. But for his part, Kaká seemed to sense his trepidation, and he turned his warm gaze back to Jamie, gently squishing his ears together, smiling.

“You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not sure what David has told you about me, but what I do can only be called magic in the broadest of senses. For me, it’s all a little more _innate_ than that.”

Kaká stood up then and placed Jamie onto the sofa, crossing the room to one of the large build-in bookcases on the opposite wall. His three guests watched him intently.

“One can practice and study for centuries, learn as much of the ancient arts as one can, and they will never possess an iota of the power the flows through me.” He paused, pulling one of the leather-bound books from the shelf. It was expectedly dusty, but Kaká was unfazed, opening it casually, thumbing through the pages. “What they seek to control, I can create. It is to me as blood is to you. Do you understand me? The witches and mages and all of the other spell-casters can only hope to tame it. It is me. I am that power.”

It was a lot for Jamie take in, especially for a man who didn’t give two shits about any of that business up until now. He didn’t care about what he couldn't see, never thought more about it than he really had to. Hell, he still wasn’t sure if he believed half the crap that came out of Beckham and Co.’s mouths. But here, face to face with the most heavenly, gentle, unsettling creature he’d ever seen, somehow before them all in the form of a human, all at once Jamie believed it all. Every single word.

“That isn’t to say the creatures of this dimension aren’t truly talented in what they do. David here has impressed me with his abilities on more than one occasion.” Beckham gave a cheeky grin. Kaká glanced back to them, eyes suddenly far, far away. “And Cristiano…”

Beckham’s face fell. “Enough about him, Kaká. Can you fix Jamie or not?”

“Of course I can.” He dropped the book carelessly to the floor. “You weren’t listening to me, David.”

Jamie jumped at the noise of the book hitting the ground, then found himself comfortable again in Gary’s lap, his _boyfriend_ petting him protectively. 

“It’s safe, then?” Gary asked, fidgeting with the scruff of Jamie’s neck. 

Kaká approached them, eyes wide, arms open, like some religious statue seeking a sacrifice. He didn’t smile, but he looked so very inviting. “Yes. Now, Jamie, close your eyes. It might hurt. But only a little.”

Somehow, Jamie knew, understood fully, that he could trust Kaká, that no harm would come to him. So after looking back to Gary for a brief second, he nodded and closed his little puppy eyes, and that was the last thing he remembered at all.

—

When he came to he was in Gary’s bed. He knew this without having to open his eyes, by the feel of the sheets, and by the fact that there were too many pillows beneath his head. Gary always used extra fabric softener, and he always stacked too goddamn many pillows on his bed. It was something Jamie’d teased him for in the past, but now, with a pounding headache, he was sort of grateful for the soft, warm nest Gary’d built up for him.

He yawned, stretched out beneath the bedspread, and then suddenly he realized that he was taking up the entire bed, sprawled out comfortably, touching the cotton sheets with dexterous, able hands. He was back to normal.

“Gary!” It was his own voice he heard, unmarred by barking or squeaking or any other animal sound. It was his own goddamn voice, and it was music to his ears. “Gary! Get in here!”

Footsteps came from down the hall and there stood Gary in the doorway, smiling in that dopey say he always did when he thought Jamie was being extra ridiculous or cute. Jamie sat up and grinned at him, throwing off the covers in his rush to get to him and throw his arms around him. He’d never been so happy to be able to hold Gary in his whole life.

“I’m fixed! That tricky bastard fixed me!” 

Gary laughed softly and sank into Jamie’s embrace and just let himself be held.

“But I don’t remember any of it.” Jamie paused, frowning against Gary’s shoulder. “How’d you manage to get me all the way back here?”

“That’s the beauty of being a vessel for powers unimaginable,” Gary snorted. “Kaká does as he pleases, when it suits him. Sometimes it’s better not to ask any questions.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows but decided to let it be. He’d had his fill of magical mumbo jumbo. The less he tried to figure it out, the better. Now that he was himself again, he had every intention of forgetting that magical beings roamed the earth and could, on occasion, royally fuck everything up.

—

He was back at Gary’s door the following Friday night, dressed in his least terrible jacket and trousers and ready for a night on the town. He’d had his fair share of explaining his absence to his landlady ( _last minute business trip across the country, sorry for making you worry, love_ ) and to Stevie (the same excuse, except amped up times ten because lord knew Stevie didn't actually believe him) and he was ready to relax, cut loose, and enjoy the evening with the man he loved.

He let himself in, bolting the door shut behind him, calling out to Gary to announce his presence. There was no response, though, and all the lights in the apartment were off. It appeared that no one was home. 

Sighing, he kicked off his shoes and made himself right at home, sinking onto the sofa, ready to turn on the TV and wait for Gary to come home. But then something flashed by the window, right out of the corner of his eye. Something small. Something brown. Something fuzzy.

“You again!” He hissed at the squirrel, casually scampering in the tree. “Little bastard! I thought I told you to get lost!” It ignored him completely. Jamie gritted his teeth. “How dare you!”

Someone yawned then, and he looked over to see Gary emerging from his bedroom, dressed in pajamas, hair a mess. Jamie’s eyes went wide.

“When’d you get here?” Gary asked, oblivious to the squirrel. He sat down next to Jamie, kicking his feet into Jamie’s lap. 

“A few minutes ago. You’re sick, Gaz?”

He shook his head. “Just needed a nap. Wasn't sure you’d be by tonight.”

Jamie scowled at him playfully. “What? And miss a Friday night with my best fella? Don’t be dense. Who else’d I want to spend it with?”

Gary smiled slyly. Jamie winked at him.

“Besides, I’ve missed holding you. Missed kissing you. Missed f—”

“I’ve missed my dog,” Gary interrupted, eyebrows raised. 

Jamie nearly pouted at him, “So you’d rather I hadn’t changed back, then? That’s how it is, Neville? You’d rather have me as a pet than a lover?”

Gary only laughed and reached out, catching him by the collar of his jacket to pull him in close for a kiss. “No,” he exhaled against Jamie’s lips. “I just want you.”

“Even when I was a dog? Because that’s kinky shite on a level I don't think I can—”

“Shut up and kiss me, Carra.”

So he did.

—

Everything went right back to normal, or as normal as life had ever been, anyway. Jamie went about his regular business, scraping by to survive one day at a time, bickering with his landlady, crashing on Gary’s sofa, avoiding Stevie’s passive aggressive judgement, and so on. The usual. What was a little _unusual_ was his desire to visit the dog park every night. He couldn’t help it. Once the sun started to turn the corner, all he could think about was how nice it would feel to have dirt beneath his feet, to run free in the kennel, to just _play_.

It was quite a predicament, and one he couldn’t quite solve. At least not until a few weeks later when he was over at Gary’s and the doorbell rang. He went to the door, and there stood his nemesis: David Beckham, smirking deviously, looking far too charming for his own good.

“Oh good, you’re here, mate.”

Jamie wrinkled his nose. “What do you want, Beckham? Haven’t you got friends of your own you can harass?”

Becks didn’t say anything to that. He just threw off his coat and revealed a small dog in his hand. “I brought this for you.”

Jamie’s eyes went wide. “What? You’re joking.”

“Naw, I’m serious. Here, take her.” Jamie hesitated then reached out for the little brown ball of fluff. “My neighbor’s dog had ‘em. She found homes for all of ‘em ‘cept this little one.”

He took hold of the puppy under its little legs and stared right into it’s big black eyes and found himself not only entranced, but in complete accordance with the animal. It barked softly, and he understood its need to be held, comforted, loved. When it tilted its little doggie head, it expressed its confusion over this turn of events, its want for the safety of its mother. Jamie’s heart hurt for the little animal, but he held her close and softly let out a little woof of comfort to her. Cheerfully, she woofed back. It seemed, no matter how unlikely, that there was some sort of left over magic in him. Jamie could now fully understand the dog. He was fluent in canine.

“See? Knew I was on to something. You and that dog’ll get on just fine.” Beckham looked far too pleased with himself for Carra’s liking. He stared at him. So did the dog. Then she barked.

“The dog says you need to shower. You reek of cologne and stale coffee and your hair is so greasy you could fry chicken in it.”

Becks’s face contorted into an unpleasant scowl, but he made his departure anyway. And as Jamie waited for Gary to get in from work, he got all the old puppy supplies out for the little dog. Life may have taken some unexpected turns for him, and he might not have ended up where he thought he would, but that was all part of the adventure. He hardly believed in the ways of magic, in spite of everything he’d endured. But the parts he did believe in made life all the more amazing. Besides, wasn’t love a form of magic anyway?

He looked down at the puppy on the floor, tearing apart the remnants of the Manchester United sweater, and he smiled. Sure, his life as a dog had been a ridiculous nightmare, but it was over now, and he got a boyfriend and a puppy out of it, so maybe, in a way, magic wasn’t so terrible after all.


End file.
